


All the colours

by BellaLovesBooks



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: M/M, SnowBaz, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-07-26 09:50:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7569529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BellaLovesBooks/pseuds/BellaLovesBooks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soulmate AU in which you can't see colour until you touch your soulmate, and you cannot permanently see colour unless you make an emotional connection to your soulmate. (Inspired by prompt I saw on the internet.)<br/>Baz works in a quaint little coffee shop that doubles as a book shop, and Simon and Penny attend a different coffee place each morning in search of Simons soul mate. Or they do, until Simon and Baz meet, and much to Baz's dismay, Simon and Penny become regular customers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sight at first touch

“Penny?”  
“Hmmmmm?” She was submerged in a book, only half listening. He swallowed awkwardly.  
“What colour is my shirt? Does it go with my pants?” He hated asking Penny for help. She didn’t mind, but it only served as a reminder that he had still had not met his soul mate. She glanced up, giving him a quick once-over.  
“Your shirt is blue, Simon. And your pants are black, so you’re fine.” She returned to her book.  
Penny met her soul mate, Micah, at the library two years ago. She had been helping Simon to colour-coordinate ever since. Simon still had not met his soul mate, still had not made contact with their skin, and so colour was just a concept, a wonderful, impossible concept to him. Simon made a point of shaking hands with everyone he ever met, and brushing shoulders with those he walked past, in desperation to escape the monotony of the blacks and whites that made up his world. So far, he had had no such luck. He hoped that his soul mate would be colourful, and bright. He hoped he had a soul mate.

Simon and Penny shared a small but decent flat together. They had been best friends since they met at school when they were 11. They had a steady routine that they stuck to nearly every day. They would wake up. Penny would help Simon pick out his outfit. They would then go to get coffee, going to a different coffee shop each time. Simon said that it was to ‘spread the support’. Penny knew that he wanted to have a better chance of meeting his soul mate. Today, they drove to a quaint coffee house that doubled as a book shop. Simon loved reading, especially action and adventure novels. He quickened his pace and stepped through the door of the shop, holding the door open for Penny. He breathed in deeply, revelling in the scent of coffee and books. He grinned at Penny, knowing that they may come here again rather than finding another shop. He walked up to the counter, and glanced from the menu to the barista at the counter.  
And stopped.  
Ho-ly shit. The man was about Simons age. He stood with a strong, proud posture, and his hair fell in silky curtains from a sharp widow’s peak, framing his face as if it were art. Simon thought it was more beautiful than any art he had ever seen. His skin was clear, and looked as though it would be a similar colour to Penny’s. He had high cheekbones, and a sharp, defined jawline. His eyes seemed to stare right into Simons, boring a hole through the back of his head. Simon wondered what colour they were. Dreamy, if that were a colour. Even in dull shades of blacks and whites and greys, he was the most impressive, most beautiful thing he had ever seen.  
“I said, what can I get for you?” The man seemed slightly irritated, but amused at the way Simon had zoned out. He had his eyebrow cocked and was smirking slightly, looking cocky but smouldering all at once. His voice was deep, rich and slow, and he spoke with a steady drawl. Simon awkwardly coughed to hide his embarrassment.  
“Umm… Medium mocha frappe, please.” He heard his voice come out sounding unusually breathless, and again felt embarrassed. The man didn’t seem to notice.  
“That will be $3.95, thankyou.”  
Simon handed over the money, and for the slightest second, their fingers brushed.  
Suddenly, everything, everyone around him changed. The blacks and the whites bled and whirled and then…  
There wasn’t just black or white anymore.  
There were so, so many colours. Warm colours, Cool colours, soft colours, bright colours. They were all around him, a part of everything he could see. It was so, so beautiful. Penny’s hair was a cool colour, but in a very bright shade. When she dyed it, she had told him it was blue. It looked eye-catching and individual and he loved it. There was a lady sitting in the corner, daintily sipping coffee whilst reading a novel. Her lips were painted a hot, bright colour that was similar to what he supposed red would be, but in a more delicate tone. A man was sitting at a table, reading a magazine with a big picture of a vast forest on the front. It was such a cool, beautiful, peaceful colour. He liked that colour a lot, in particular. He wondered what it was called. Looking around the room, he saw more blues in different shades, a colour like the woman’s’ lips but much darker. He still saw some blacks and whites but even these seemed more colourful and bright than before. He saw colours of people’s skin, their eyes, there clothes. It was so beautiful, so overwhelmingly beautiful. He looked at the Barista. His skin was a warm, gentle colour. It was a shade lighter than Penny’s, but also had tones of another colour that he did not know the name of. Simon wanted to brush his hand across his skin, touching all that beautiful colour. His eyes, his beautiful, dreamy eyes were…  
All of a sudden, the barista snatched his hand away, looking shocked. The world surrounding him suddenly sprang back to hideous black and white. Drab. Boring.  
Before he could say anything, the barista muttered “It’s on me”, and then scuttled away to make the drink. He looked shocked and vulnerable little boy, nothing like the confident man Simon had seen before. Simon stared at his retreating back, a sick feeling of loss in the pit of his stomach.  
He turned to Penny, who was smiling from ear to ear.  
“It happened, didn’t it?” She asked gleefully. “You saw colours?”  
He nodded mutely, and then reached up and touched her hair. Right now, it was only a drab shade of grey, but the vivid blue it had been before was burned into his memory. He could remember those colours, and he guarded that memory fiercely. He would not forget how beautiful the world was.  
“Excuse me.” Said a voice behind him. He turned, and he saw the barista. The barista looked torn, as if he was enduring an internal battle. Finally, his face hardened, and he passed a coffee cup to Simon. Their hands did not brush. The barista made to escape again, but Simon wasn’t going to let him just walk away.  
“Hey, wait! What’s your name?” He called after him.  
“What’s it to you?” The man asked in a bored drawl. As if nothing had happened. Simon felt himself become frustrated. “You’re my soul mate!” He hissed, stepping forward. The man slowly turned to face Simon, his face empty and blank.  
“Excuse me?” He asked, traces of scorn and disdain in his voice.  
“Didn’t you… Didn’t you see the colours too?” Asked Simon, his voice small. This could not be happening.  
“I have no clue what you are talking about.” He sneered, then stormed away to serve the next customer.


	2. Lies

Simon felt his heart clench as if it were in a vice. How could that be? Simon had seen how shocked he had looked, how vulnerable and somehow… Scared? As if his mask had been momentarily torn away. He had to be lying. But why would he?   
Penny was looking shocked and angry. She knew as well as he did that the barista had seen colours too. Why was he denying it?  
He could see that Penny was working herself up into a full-on rant, and if he wasn’t careful she would walk up to the barista and start yelling at him herself.  
“C’mon Penny. Let’s go.” He muttered, and led her out of the shop. He cast one last lingering glance behind him as they left. The barista was staring at him, his jaw clenched and his brows furrowed. The door swung shut behind him, and their gaze was broken. He sighed, and trudged to the car.

She started talking as soon as they got in the car. “He was your soul mate! Why would he pretend he wasn’t? He saw the colours, I could tell! The lying, stupid, idiotic, jack-ass, sad little bastard!” He let Penny rant a bit more, saying everything for him. He never was good with words.   
“Well, what are you going to do about it?” She finally asked, taking her eyes off the road to glare lovingly at Simon. He sighed.  
“Look straight ahead, Pens. I don’t really know. I… I just… I…” He sighed in frustration. “I want to see colours permanently. I don’t care if he never wants to see me again or whatever, I just want to hang out with him until I can dress myself, and paint pictures properly, and… and…” Penny reached across and brushed the tears from his cheek. He ducked his head and hastily wiped his eyes on his sleeve. He hadn’t even realised that he was crying. “Hey, it’s ok Simon. We won’t let him get away with it. We are going to go to that coffee book shop every single morning until he gets over himself. You wait, by the end of the month, he will be so sick of us he’ll date you just to be rid of me.”   
He smiled weakly at her. “Thanks, Penny. Love you.”  
She rolled her eyes at his words.  
“How could you not. Love you too, Simon.” 

By the end of the car ride, he was smiling again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter was so short! I have quite a bit of school work. Stay tuned for next chapter!


	3. Unlovable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz's point of view of their first meeting, including flashback of his last words with Malcolm.

Baz had gotten no sleep the night before they met. He had received a short, sharp email from Malcolm (He refused to call that man ‘Father’) right after dinner.  
“As you may know, tomorrow is Mordelia’s 10th birthday. Kindly do not show your face at our house and ruin the celebrations. Malcolm.” It had read. Just that. No apology, no greetings, no nothing. Just two sentences that revolved around and around his mind until he vomited neatly into the toilet bowl. He hadn’t been planning on coming home anyway, but there was no way he would forget Mordelia’s birthday. He was gay, not a short-term memory loss victim. He had already posted her card and gift to his Aunt Fiona, who would ensure it would get to Mordelia under Malcolm’s nose.  
Of course, that was the centre of the whole issue; Malcolm would rather see him unhappy with a woman than happy with a man. It was complete bullshit, he knew, but he still felt Malcolm’s last words to him like needles through his heart. He had recalled their last conversation (if you could even call it that) as he sat, shivering and gasping for air next to the toilet bowl.  
Malcolm had been going on (another) rant about how Baz had still not yet found his soul mate, and had still not shown enthusiasm about his promotion in GrimmPitch enterprises, and still had not bought his own bloody mansion with a bloody car or two to match, and how Malcolm had done all of this by the time he was 18. Baz had heard this rant before. He heard it every time he came for dinner, or to drop by and visit his siblings, or even when he made a phone call. He had mastered the art of keeping his expression completely blank, not letting his anger or frustration show. Fiona always rolled her eyes whenever Malcolm started on Baz, but, after having been threatened to be evicted from the house on multiple occasions, had learnt to keep her mouth shut. She would give Baz a sympathetic smile and always cut in if Malcolm was pushing it too far. But this time, Fiona wasn’t there, and Malcolm had had a little too much to drink. This time, he had been ranting about Baz’s lack of soul mate.  
“When you were born, your mother had said ‘He is so handsome, I bet he will find his soul mate even earlier than we found each other. Look at you know, 21 years old and still a colour blind loner. Your mother and I found each other at 16, and no pitch or Grimm has ever lasted this long without a soul mate. What a fucking disappointment you are, Basilton. Why can’t you just find yourself a respectful, classy young lady? Your mother would be so disappointed in you.  
Your mother would be so disappointed in you. It was these words, mixed with a drink in his stomach, the rage spreading throughout his body, and the lack of sleep the previous night that had made him do it.  
“What if I don’t want to find a woman?” He had said, chin high and eyes burning. His father had frozen. He carefully placed his drink down, and slowly leaned forward.  
“What do you mean?” Baz had swallowed, wishing he could stop and backtrack, but he couldn’t bring down the years of anger, frustration and hurt that were simmering inside him.  
“What if… I just want to find a man?” He had whispered. He refused to make eye contact with Malcolm, staring into the fire.  
“You’re saying that… You’re gay?” Malcolm’s voice was dangerously calm, but all of a sudden, so was Baz. He should not have to hide any longer, especially not from his own father. He had torn his eyes from the flames and looked at Malcolm.  
“Yes. That is exactly what I am saying.” Baz had known that Malcolm wouldn’t like it. But he had hoped that his love for his son would override that, that he would accept and love him just the same. There was a stretch of silence, then…  
“I’ll give you one chance to take that back. We can forget this and move on. But I am not living with a faggot for a son.” Baz had been expecting many things, many reactions. But not this, never this. He was shocked, frozen to his seat. He contemplated taking it back, living the rest of his life pretending to love some random girl who didn’t find her soul mate either. He had contemplating living the rest of his life with his fathers love and protection. He contemplated rising to the very top of his father’s business, finding a large house and an expensive car with his fathers help. He had contemplated the house overrun with the small Grimm-Pitch-Something babies his father so desperately wanted him to have. 

He contemplated living his whole life unhappy. Constantly hiding behind a mask, constantly rattling off ‘I’m Fine’s and ‘I’m Just tired’s when it all got to much, when his loneliness overwhelmed him. It was then he realised that, should he have to live with that hopelessness, he would end up going the same way his mother had; A bullet to the brain. 

He had tilted his head back, and employed his haughtiest expression he could muster. (He used this expression to hide his fear, or pain.)  
“I will not take it back. I love men, and if you expect me to pretend that I’m fine even though I’m really not then you can expect that eventually I will go the same way Mother did. I can’t live in hiding anymore, wondering when I can be accepted for who makes me happy. It’s killing me, having to pretend that I am perfectly ok when you shit on me for not finding a girl. Can’t you see that?” He broke off, shoulders and chest heaving with the sudden loss of what had been weighing him down since he was 12. His father had risen, his face mottled red and twisted in a snarl.  
“I hope you go the same way as my wife! But know that you are not going anywhere near she is. You are dirty, a mutation. You are no son of mine, nor of hers! There is only one place for people like you, straight to hell! I never want to see your face again. Don’t come near me or my family.” Baz had calmly risen. And marvelling at his own daring, his own idiocy, spat at Malcolm’s feet. He turned to leave the room, but was prevented by a vice-like grip on his arm. He turned to see Malcolm’s face two inches from his own.  
“Watch your back. Because if ever see you with another man, I will be forced to beat the sense back into you. Into both of you.” Baz had flung off his hand and stormed from the room. But he didn’t miss Malcolm’s last words to him, shouted from behind the slammed door;  
“Your mother would be so disappointed. She could never love you. No one could ever love you, no woman or man. You’re unlovable, Basilton. Leave, now. ”  
He didn’t allow his tears to fall until he got to Fiona’s.

Ever since, he had told himself, over and over, that he would never find his soul mate. And that it was for the best, in the best interests of them both, to never allow Malcolm to carry out his threat. He could live with being alone. He told himself to forget anything Malcolm had told him, and that none of it was true. But in the 10 months since they had fought, he could never shut down the small voice in his head that constantly whispered “Your mother would be so disappointed. She could never love you. No one could ever love you, woman or man. You’re unlovable.” Surely someone so unlovable could never meet their soul mate, if they had one at all?

And so, tired and tense, Baz had been completely unprepared for the sudden explosion of colours that had bloomed when he had made contact with the strangers’ skin.  
He had noticed him as soon as he pushed open the door. Baz did not look at many men in that way; It was a tragic irony that he had defied his father so as to be able to love men freely, and yet didn’t allow himself the simple pleasure of admiring them when he was fee to do so. But this man was impossible to not look at; He was like the sun, bright and warm and beautiful. He seemed to make everything else uglier in comparison. Baz could not tear his eyes away from him. No one else seemed to pay the man much mind, but to Baz he was the only thing in the room. His soft curls were ruffled in a messy, carefree way, sticking up from his head like ocean waves. He wondered what colour it would be. Blonde maybe? What did blonde even look like? It was a light colour, he knew, and the mans hair was a light shade of grey. He was tall, maybe a little shorter than Baz, and stood loose and relaxed.  
His eyes danced around the room, curious and friendly, and his smile was amiable and honest. The man was accompanied by a short, soft looking girl, who had wild hair pulled into a long plait. She was eyeing the shelves of books on the other side of the store lustfully, but followed the man as he strode to the counter. With a sinking feeling, Baz realised that they must be a couple. Of course the man wasn’t gay, and even if he was he wouldn’t have looked twice at Baz. The girl brushed her hair back behind her ear, and he noticed the glint of a diamond ring on her finger. But, as he noticed the mans hands (broad, strong looking. Baz would bet that they were soft, though.) he realised with a jolt that his fingers were bare. Just friends, maybe? He quickly stomped down the spark of hope he felt building in his chest.  
And then the man looked up and noticed Baz, and for the first time, his smile slipped. His eyes sort of glazed over, and Baz was taken aback. Was the man ok? Did Baz do something wrong?  
“Um… Can I take your order?” Baz stuttered. He was embarrassed by how tight his voice was, but the man didn’t seem to hear him. Was he checking him out? He was staring at Baz’s face, and Baz was glad that he was unable to blush. The man licked his bottom lip seemingly without realising, and Baz decided he had to stop this guy staring at him before he did something stupid.  
“I said, can I take your order?” It came out a little snippier than he intended, but the man broke out of his trance and blushed. Baz could feel himself swooning. He didn’t know what had made the man blush, but the grin the guy gave him made Baz feel as if his innards were twisting into the shape of a heart. To mask this, Baz arched his eyebrow at him, but couldn’t help the tiny smile that broke through the mask.  
“Umm… Medium mocha frappe, please.” The mans voice was warm and slightly breathy, and seemed to hold all the laughter in the world. Baz had to fight hard to maintain his aura of calm indifference as he said, “That will be $3.95, thankyou.” He prayed that he sounded like a professional barista and not a love-struck school boy. The man handed over the money ($3.95 exactly- Who did that?) and their fingers brushed.  
And then it had happened.  
Baz had been hoping and praying for this moment, dreading and cursing this moment. It appeared in his most hideous nightmares and most beautiful fantasies.  
Colour.  
Everywhere, the grey and black and white bled into colour. It was like a symphony in front of him, different tones and shades all complimenting each other, supporting each other, to make one big masterpiece. The man was looking around in wonder, and it was like seeing a child at Christmas. Baz drank in every little detail about him, and his vibrant hair and eyes a similar colour to the sky (only much, much more beautiful) and glowing skin was a riot of colour, so bright it was like crashing into the sun. He was so bright, ablaze with all the beauty of the world. He turned his eyes to Baz, and he looked so happy, so lovable…  
Baz wasn’t lovable. And this man wasn’t safe with him. Baz snatched his hand away, dropping the coins to the counter. The world shrank back to the way it had always been, and the loss felt like physical pain. He muttered something to the man before scuttling away to make the drink. There was a battle raging in his head as he made the drink.  
‘He could be mine. Maybe, I really could be happy.’  
‘Malcolm will kill us.’  
‘I won’t let him do that’.  
Baz took small, unsteady steps towards the boy, drink in hand. He was teetering on the edge of a decision, and he didn’t know what to do. Until a little voice came up with a final argument;  
‘He would never love you anyway.’ Baz felt his shoulders harden, and he thrust the drink towards the man. He was giving him an ear-splitting grin, and Baz turned on his heel back to the counter. 

“Hey, wait! What’s your name?” The man called after him. He clenched his jaw, trying to ignore the plea in his voice. He turned with a sneer on his lips.  
“What’s it to you?” He drawled, as if it was the last thing on his mind. As if he didn’t want to ask the man the same thing, to know every last thing about him.  
The man stepped forward, looking frustrated.  
“You’re my soul mate.” The man hissed, his eyes flashing. Baz grit his teeth.  
“Excuse me?” He asked, as if it came as a shock, as if he were surprised. The man looked confused, and hurt, and it was killing Baz to see him like this.  
“Didn’t you… Didn’t you see the colours too?” His voice sounded raw, delicate, and Baz hated himself for what he had to do.  
“I have no clue what you are talking about.” He said. And then, not being able to bear the haunted, broken look of emptiness and betrayal and pain on his face, he stormed back to the counter.

“Simon?” The girl asked.  
Simon. His name was Simon.  
He stared after their retreating backs and tried to quench the raw, open pain raging inside of him. And then Simon gave him one last long, searching look before the door shut with an awful click of finality, and Baz had to excuse himself to the store room. Silent sobs wracked his body, and he pulled at his hair, his skin, hating himself.  
He knew he would never see Simon again. But he still remembered how beautiful the world was, and how Simon had made it dimmer by comparison. He still remembered every detail of Simon, from his shining curls to his heart-melting grin to the hollow look he had given Baz before the door had shattered their gaze. 

He would always remember how beautiful Simon was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! Sorry for the wait, but hopefully it was worth it? Stay tuned for next chapter!


	4. Tomorrow

The next morning, Simon woke to a feeling of excitement and panic. He was excited because he was going to see the barista, his soul mate, again. He was panicked because he was going to see the barista, his soul mate, again. Simon had two goals in mind; One, to learn the man’s name. And two, to touch him again. He did not care that he would probably just tell him to leave, to never come back. (He did care, a lot.) (Shut up.) 

That morning, he woke before Penny. He wanted to look good. He wanted the barista to think he looked good. He waited a grand total of 5 minutes before waking up Penny, who woke grudgingly but gained enthusiasm when he asked her to pick an outfit for him to wear.   
Simon spent the whole 7 minutes in the car worrying at his hair and wondering what on earth he would say. He was starting to feel sick to his stomach. What if he didn’t work today? What if he didn’t want to talk to Simon? What if he made him leave? What if Simon didn’t know what to say, or said all the wrong things? But, as they pulled up at the shop, he grit his teeth. Simon had been waiting for this man his entire life, and wasn’t going to let a little thing like the fact that the man didn’t want him back stop him. He strode into the shop, leaving Penny scrambling to catch up, and desperately scanned the room for him. He wasn’t at the coffee register, or serving tables or making drinks. He felt himself deflate, when he remembered that the coffee shop doubled as a book shop. He looked towards the shelves on the other side of the room. Sure enough, the man was standing there with his back to him, with a crate half full of books next to him. He was placing them onto a bare shelf. Simon stared at his wave of thick black hair, and thought idly how he’d like to stroke it. Simon was just wondering what he should say to him, if anything at all, when the man turned around as if sensing he was there. Simon watched as the mans expression went from professionally friendly and open to shocked, then panicked, then to closed and blank.   
“Um, Hi. I’m looking for a book?” Simon blurted out. He willed himself not to blush. The man raised a perfect brow.   
“We are currently surrounded by books.” His voice was guarded and short, but beautiful nonetheless. Simon swallowed.  
“Yes, but… I’m looking for a specific book. I was hoping you could help me find it?” Simon stared at his shoes. The man could easily just tell him to rack off, and Simon would be left looking and feeling like an idiot. Simon often felt like an idiot. But, to his surprise, the man replied “What… What kind of book?” Simon allowed himself to glance up at his face. He looked shocked and scared, as if he had spoken without thinking and was regretting it. Simon desperately wished he could understand what was going on inside his head. He wished that the man would talk to him, touch him. He wished that the man would feel the same way as he was.  
The man cleared his throat, and Simon realised that he had been staring again. “What?” He asked, embarrassed. The man rolled his eyes, but gave him a good natured smile. Or close to one anyway. It looked tight and professional, but Simon bet that his real smile was more beautiful than time itself.   
“Is the book for you, or someone else?” He asked.   
“Um… It’s for me. I… Ran out of good books that I haven’t read before.” Simon spat out the lie so easily, that it surprised even him. In reality, he had a pile of books waiting for him at home that Penny was bullying him into reading, but the man didn’t need to know that.   
“Well, what sort of genres are you into? We have everything from fiction to non-fiction, romance to horror.” Simon barely heard him. He was puzzling over the mans name, wondering what it could possibly be. Something long and elegant, he bet. And of course, being the moron he was, he blurted out what was on his mind.  
“Why don’t you wear a name badge?” He asked, then quickly looked back down at his shoes and blushed. God, he was an idiot.   
“Sorry?” The man seemed taken aback, though not offended. Simon’s idiocy seemed to amuse him.   
“It’s just that… Other people who work here have a name tag… And... I just… Wanted to know yours?” Simon bit his lip before any more words could run away from him. He felt the flush work it’s way up his cheeks.  
“Why do you want to know my name?” The man’s voice was low and dangerous, and full of warning. Do not go there. Simon quickly scrambled to cover his mistake.  
“It’s just… You’re helping me find a book… And… I’d like to call you by your first name…” He finished lamely. His excuse was poor, they both knew. The man stared at him, his face revealing nothing. Finally, after what had seemed like a millennium, he spoke.  
“My full name? Or my short name.” He asked. Simon shrugged.  
“Tyrannus Basilton Gri-” The man seemed to catch himself. “Tyrannus Basilton Pitch.” He repeated firmly, and smirked at Simon’s open mouth. “You can just call me Baz. And who might you be?” Baz looked slightly uncomfortable, and Simon doubted that Baz was the type of worker who made small talk with customers.   
“Simon Snow. Nice to meet you.” Baz nodded like he was not surprised, and turned away as if he didn’t notice Simon’s offered handshake. Simon let his hand swing awkwardly back to his side, frustrated. He wasn’t sure how to proceed.   
“So. Horror, adventure, sci-fi, romance...?” He man was placing the last of the books on the shelf, his face hidden. Simon cleared his throat.  
“Um… Adventure? Sci Fi, I guess.” Simon would read anything this man recommended him. Not that he would ever say so. The man thought for a minute. Then, his eyes lit up and he turned away, making his way through the maze of shelves. Simon stumbled over his own foot in his hurry to catch up. The man stopped and picked up a book from the shelf.   
“The Fire Sermon, by Francesca Haig. Adventure, Sci-Fi, Romance. Political, futuristic, dystopian and one of my all-time favourite books.” Baz cleared his throat, and his expression quickly worked its way from excited to professional. “I mean, I would definitely recommend it. It has won various prizes, and has received excellent reviews.” Simon smiled and took the book from Baz. Simon intended to ‘accidently’ brush fingers, but Baz snatched his hand away. Baz cleared his throat. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”  
“Just this. For now.” Simon made sure to stress the last two words, and miraculously… Baz smiled at him. Just for a second, before it faded away. But it definitely was there. Baz led him to the cash register, and scanned the book. Simon handed over the money, and decided to flirt.   
“Maybe you… Maybe you should write your number in the front cover. So I can text you when I’ve finished.” Without looking up from carefully putting the book in a bag, Baz arched an eyebrow.   
“Why would you text me when you’re done?” Simon shrugged, his heart thumping loudly. Baz sighed. “Simon… This… This wouldn’t work between us. I’m sorry.” He was biting his lip and looking more vulnerable and unmasked than Simon had ever seen him. Simon shrugged again. “It’s not you, you have to understand. It’s not that I don’t want… I do… It’s just… Safer…” Baz seemed to be having difficulty forming his sentences, and Simon knew that this was a rare occurrence.   
“If you want me to, I’ll respect your space. But Baz… I really, really want to know you. And I get the feeling that you want to know me too. Whatever is holding you back, that’s your business. But, please let me try to help you overcome it. We can make this work.” Simon spoke with more sincerity than he usually used in a month. He wanted this, so, so much.   
Baz didn’t speak, and Simon could see his jaw clenching as he tried to compose himself.   
“I mean, I can’t spend the rest of my life having to rely on Penny to choose my outfit.” It was a feeble joke, but Baz cracked a smiled. “Of course you would need help choosing your clothes, Snow.” His comeback was equally feeble, but Simon grinned at him.   
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Simon said hopefully. Baz gave a long-suffering sigh.   
“Tomorrow, then.” Simon gave his biggest grin, and Baz grudgingly returned it. Then, feeling lighter than he had in a while, Simon walked out the door clutching his new book and grinning at Penny. True, the book had no phone number written inside of it, and Baz had not actually said that he would try to get to know Simon.   
But their conversation sang loudly in his head like a symphony, and the promise of tomorrow lifted him up onto a cloud.   
Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow.   
Simon smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Fire Sermon is a real book, and it is one of my favourites. I would definitely recommend reading it! I hope you are enjoying this so far, any constructive criticism or advice is more than welcome. :)


	5. First Step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agatha comes to the rescue.

Baz swore that Simon could read minds. He had been daydreaming about Simon as he was stacking shelves, picturing his his wide grin and hectic curls. They had spoken for only about 5 minutes total, but somehow Baz couldn’t get him off of his mind. Overnight his feelings for the stranger had grown ridiculously, as if Baz had been crushing on him for years rather than a day. It was irrational yet undeniable, a strange yet wonderful emotion that swelled and sang through his body. However, it was tainted by the dark cloud of Malcolm’s warnings, and the sharp memory of what he had said yesterday.  
Baz doubted that Simon would come again. He probably despised the very thought of him. Baz was filled with a curious mixture of new love and melancholy, light and shadow whirling around him like a hurricane. He was wishing that Simon would come back and allow him to explain, or try to. He wished that Malcolm was out of the picture. But most of all, he wished he was brave enough to love Simon.  
It was these thought that were crossing his mind when Simon had crept up behind him, and asked for his help finding a book. And Baz had tried to ignore his shadows. He had bitten back any snarky comments, had smiled back at Simon, and had even worked up the courage to directly talk about… the issue. Baz had a speech all prepared in his head, ready to deliver. Baz had a knack for speeches and quick thinking. Words were generally a strength of his. But then Simon had asked for his number, and looked at him so intensely that Baz had lost his capability of speech. This had shocked him more than anything else. Baz never lost his composure, never let his mask drop. His elocution and choice of words were always, always flawless. Even under Malcolm’s shouts and threats, he managed to keep his head and let the words flow from his tongue. And yet, Simon had come along and stolen his breath, his words, his composure and Baz did not know what to do. His elegance, knowledge and grace meant nothing in the light of Simon. Baz supposed that Simon was one of his only weaknesses. He didn’t know what to think about that.  
His speech flew from his head and he, the great Tyrannus Basilton Pitch, had stuttered. He tried to force his words out, and they fell flat and pathetic. He had never been so embarrassed. But, miraculously… Simon didn’t care. He had told him that he still wanted to know him. He had said that he could help Baz. He had told him, with a ridiculously hopeful smile on his face, that they could make it work. And Baz had melted like a snowman in the Sahara. Simon had left with the promise of tomorrow hanging in the air, and Baz couldn’t help but smile to himself for the rest of the day.

But now that tomorrow was here, Baz was starting to freak out. What if Simon didn’t come? What if he did? What would Baz do? What should he do? It was storming mightily outside, the rain thrashing at the windows and and tiny rivers running along the sides of the roads. The wind howled and snatched at anything that wasn’t glued to the ground, and Baz barely made it in without getting his hair wet. (He wanted to look good for Simon, though he told himself it was because he didn’t have time to wash it later.) The world was especially grey today; Baz supposed that storms were grey even for people who could see in colour. As he started taking orders, Baz could feel himself growing steadily more and more panicked. He had to ask customers to repeat themselves, had given someone the wrong change and had even nearly mucked up someone’s order. Nearly. “Baz, what are you doing? Pay attention.” His co-worker, Agatha, hissed at him. Agatha was his closest friend. Technically, the shop belonged to her mother, but Agatha was equally if not more so the boss. Agatha had been very supportive, and she was the only one (apart from Fiona) who knew about the Malcolm situation. He was very grateful to have her.

Baz was about to give up on hoping he would turn up, when the bell chimed to admit another customer and a familiar head of crazy curls appeared. Baz felt every cell in his body relax and let out the breath he didn’t realise he was holding. He quickly rearranged his face to look blank and disinterested as Simon approached the counter. His hair dripped with water and he was sopping wet, but he wore the largest grin that Baz had ever seen. He looked genuinely happy to see Baz, and Baz could feel butterflies in his stomach. Baz couldn’t help but smile back. He never could help himself with Simon. Simons short friend wasn’t with him today; She was probably smart enough to stay indoors.

“Hey Baz,” He said with a wink. Baz nearly swooned. “I started the book and it is amazing! I’m about halfway through already.”  
“Wow, fast reader.” He replied, biting his cheek to stop the ear-splitting grin that ached to break through.  
“Not really. It’s just such a great book. Cass is so great! But the Confessor is a bitch.” Baz laughed at his excitement. He was so adorable.  
“Can I get you anything?” He asked, because he could see a line forming behind Simon of shivering people awaiting a warm drink.  
“Oh yeah, can I get a medium mocha frappe please?” Baz raised his brow at this. (A frappe? In this weather?) “That will be…” Simon was already handing him the money.  
“I remember from the other day.” He said, shrugging. Simon seemed to shrug a lot.  
“Eat in or take-away?” Baz asked. It was a stupid question; He doubted Simon was dumb enough to venture back into the storm straight away.  
“Eat in.” Said Simon. “You aren’t getting rid of me that easily!”  
“How unfortunate.” He sneered, but his insult was marred by his soft grin. Simon smiled brightly in return and went to sit in the old armchair in the corner of the room. From underneath his coat he brought out the book, and started reading from where he left off. Baz smiled at the look of intense concentration on his face, and turned to make the drink. Suddenly, someone grabbed his arm in a vice-like grip and forcefully dragged him through to the store room.  
“Agatha.” He sighed, rubbing his arm. She had her arms crossed and was staring at him expectantly. “Why are you staring at Simon Snow? I can practically see your pupils turn to heart shapes!”  
“How do you know Simon?” he asked, surprised. She waved the question away impatiently.  
“High school friend. But that’s not important. Is he the one?”  
Baz feigned ignorance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said, tilting his chin up.  
“Oh, come off it Baz. I haven’t seen you smile that much in a month, and here Simon is making you smile 5 times since he entered the building. I was counting.” She added over his protests. “Spill.” She ordered. He sighed.  
“Simon is my… Soul mate, I guess. We met the day before yesterday. I panicked when I saw colours, thinking of Malcolm and so pretended I didn’t. I was a right ass, but he came back yesterday and got me to help him find a book. I did my best to be polite to make up for the previous day, and he asked for my number. I didn’t give it to him. I tried to explain why I couldn’t but he made the words get muddled in my mouth. Agatha, he made me stutter! But he said he would come back today and he did, and he is halfway through the book, and I think that he is the most beautiful thing to grace this planet.” He flushed at his slip-up. Even thinking about Simon made him lose it. 

Agatha took several deep breaths as if to calm herself. When she spoke, it sounded as if she was straining to not shout.  
“Baz. I am so sick of you moping around looking sad just because Malcolm is a fucking twat. You know that you’re stronger than him, he can’t hurt you. You're free! Don't let him rule your life. Now, go and give Simon your FUCKING number or so help me, I will give it to him for you.” She was glaring at him in an alarming fashion (Agatha was the queen of glares). He swallowed nervously.  
“But… If Malcolm finds us, he wont just attack me, he’ll attack Simon too. I can’t let that happen.” She smiled at him and pulled him into a firm hug.  
“We won’t let that happen. He can’t get you here. Remember, I have the right to refuse service to anyone. Including you. Which I will do unless you go and give him your bloody number!” He laughed and squeezed her gratefully. Agatha gave the best pep-talks.  
“Thanks, Ags.” He said.  
“I know, I know, I’m the best and greatest. Now go!” She said, rolling her eyes and shoving him out the door. 

Baz made the drink with more care than usual, and placed the cup in a saucer. He scrawled his number onto a napkin and slipped it between the cup and saucer, trying very hard to look casual. Baz was the master of looking casual, calm and collected, but his heart was racing and he had to resist the urge to glance at Simon. He swallowed. He wasn’t sure if he could do this. Malcolm’s angry face flashed through his mind, and he balled his hands into fists to prevent them from trembling. But then, Malcolm’s face was replaced by Simons; Simon laughing, Simon smiling, Simon blushing. He took a deep breath and picked up the cup, lifting his chin and replacing his expression with his usual one of vague boredom. And, fuelled by a pointed glare from Agatha, he walked towards Simon.

Simon was immersed in his book. His lips were parted slightly and he was staring so intently at the book, Baz was sure it would burst into flames. He deliberately placed the cup in front of Simon, who jumped when he was torn from his concentration.  
“You startled me!” He said, giving Baz such an adorable grin that Baz could feel his ears grow warm.  
“You’re easy to sneak up on, especially when you’re reading.” He replied smoothly. His voice and expression did nothing to reveal his racing heart and sweaty palms. Simon had still not noticed the napkin.  
Simon scoffed. “I snuck up on you yesterday! I distinctly remember seeing you jump.” Baz raised a brow.  
“I definitely did not jump. I heard you coming from a mile away, you tread like a bear.” Simon raised his eyebrow to mirror Baz’s, in a horrible yet endearing imitation. Baz couldn’t help but let a small bubble of laughter escape, a ridiculous snort-like noise. And then, he couldn’t hold it back anymore; He started cracking up, and Simons warm laughter joined his. Baz fought to control himself. He could sense customers looking at them, and could feel Agatha’s’ smirk. He finally subdued himself.  
“Sorry. It’s just, I haven’t laughed since… I haven’t really laughed in a while.” Simon nodded gravely.  
“That is extremely bad for your health, sir. Containing your laughter makes it all get built up inside you, and there are only two ways it can escape. Out of the mouth, or out of the…” Simon waggled his eyebrows at him.  
“As your doctor, I must insist that you laugh more often. I prescribe myself.” Simon made such a serious and pompous face that it started Baz laughing all over again. He put his head in between his knees and tried to muffle his laughter. It felt good to laugh after so long. When he finally sat upright again, furious with himself for losing his composure, Simon had picked up the napkin. He was staring at it in confusion. Baz held his breath. Simon had asked for his number yesterday, but Baz couldn’t help but panic anyway. What if he rejected it?  
Simon turned to him. “Is this what I think it is?”  
“I should hope so. If that isn’t a napkin, I don’t know what is.” Baz tried (and failed) to use sarcasm to cover up his anxiousness. Simon gave his eyes a mighty roll.  
“No, you dumb ass. This!” He said gesturing at the number scrawled on it. “Is it… Your number?”  
Baz sighed. “You said that you wanted to text me when you’re done.” Simons eyes widened.  
“So it is your number then!” He gave an ear splitting grin. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist my charm for long.” Baz rolled his eyes.  
“Charm? What charm. I believe I am the most charming one out of the two of us.”  
“I doubt that. Maybe… we should hang out more to test that theory?” Simon seemed nervous. He stared down at the table and was biting his lip. God, that was sexy. Baz swallowed and glanced up at Agatha, who raised her eyebrows at him.  
“I… I would like that.” Baz said quietly. The butterflies in his stomach intensified as he imagined he and Simon hanging out together, in various different scenarios.  
Simon gazed up at him intently, his eyes staring into Baz’s as if trying to find any traces of sarcasm or scorn. Then he smiled, and it was a smile just for Baz, private and quiet and beautiful. Baz had to resist the urge to touch him, to kiss him.  
“What time do you get off?” Simon asked.  
“Right now.” Cut in a voice from behind them. Agatha had snuck up on them without either of them realising.  
“Agatha?” exclaimed Simon incredulously. He looked shocked, embarrassed but pleased to see her. “I thought you were in Chicago!”  
“Hey Simon! It's so good to see you! Yeah, I stayed there about a year, but I realised that it wasn’t really for me. So I came back and took over mum’s shop. I thought you were going to Oxford with Penny?” He shook his head, laughing.  
“We changed our minds. We both got accepted into the uni here and decided to attend here instead.” They laughed and hugged, obviously elated to see each other again.  
“So, you and Baz, huh? I wasn’t expecting that!” She said playfully, punching him lightly on the shoulder. Simon blushed, a deep stain on his lovely face. He looked down and shrugged, covering up by sipping his frappe. Agatha laughed and turned to Baz.  
“It’s super quiet in here, we have enough people to handle it. You guys go do something nice.” She leaned in close to him. “And so help me Basilton, if you push him away or somehow fuck this up, you are on compost duty for the rest of your sorry life.” She winked, hugged Simon goodbye with promises to keep in contact, and walked back to the counter. There was an awkward silence whilst they thought of something to do in the cyclone-like weather. He was unsure of what Simon would enjoy, and was starting to panic, when Simon's face suddenly brightened.  
“Do you wanna go to the cinema? We could watch a movie and get popcorn and stuff.” He looked at Baz nervously, as if he were scared he would say no. Simon was a fool; Baz couldn’t say no to him even if he wanted to.  
“That sounds perfect. I’ll just go and grab my jacket.”  
Simon smiled with such childish delight, that Baz had to put his hands in his pockets to refrain from stroking his face. He felt happier than he had in ages, and wasn’t going to let Malcolm get in the way. He was Tyrannus Basilton Pitch and he got what he wanted. And right now, all he wanted, more than anything, was Simon Snow.


	6. Chapter 6

They arrived at the movies moderately dry; Baz had had the insight to bring an umbrella. Simon still could not quite believe that this was real.   
When he had awoken the morning after Baz had sold him the book, the weather had been horrible. The rain was streaming down his window, blocking the view, and he had to shout at Penny to be heard. He had asked her if she was ready to go. She had told him that this was something he should do alone. He suspected that she just didn’t want to face the weather. Simon wasn’t going to let a little thing like the near cyclonic weather stop him from seeing Baz. He had brought the book, tucking it into the inside pocket of his raincoat with his wallet and phone, and raced outside to the car. He had parked nearly directly outside the shop, yet he still managed to get sopping wet. He hoped that he looked ok, but he was in too much of a hurry to get inside to do anything about it.   
The temperature inside the café was considerably warmer than outside, though Simon didn’t know whether it was because the heater was on or because he saw Baz. Baz looked especially nice today. He had somehow managed to stay dry and his hair fell loosely around his face, looking thick and glossy. Simon wondered what it would be like to run his hands through his hair, if Baz ever let him get that close. And then Baz looked up and noticed him and Simon had to think about what to say one the spot.   
“Hey, Baz,” he had said. Safe, casual greeting. But then, because he was an idiot and he kind of wanted to, he winked at him. But before Simon could regret it, he saw Baz blush. Just the tiniest amount, almost undetectable. But it was there, and Simon decided to take it as a good sign.   
“I started the book and it’s amazing!” He blurted out. He had stayed up until midnight after studying to read it, and it he had become enthralled with it nearly as quickly as he had with Baz. Baz looked as though he was trying very hard not to smile. Simon wished that he would.  
“Wow, fast reader.” Said Baz, and his voice was strong and sweet and powerful and down-right sexy.   
“Not really. It’s just such a great book. Cass is so great! But the confessor is a bitch.” Baz laughed at this, a short and raspy sound that sounded as if he hadn’t used it in a while. He stopped almost immediately, but smiled fondly at Simon. His expression quickly adjusted to professional.  
“Can I get you anything?” Baz asked, and Simon realised that there was a line forming behind him. He grinned sheepishly.  
“Oh yeah, can I get a medium mocha frappe please?” Baz raised one of his perfect brows as he copied down the order. Simon didn’t understand how he could wear such an arrogant expression yet still look so heart-breakingly gorgeous. He wondered if he could master such an expression, and made a mental note to try it later.   
Simon handed over the money just as Baz started to say, “That will be...”   
Simon shrugged. “I remember from the other day.” Wordlessly, he took the money and placed it in the register.   
“Eat-in or take-away?” Simon didn’t like how professional Baz sounded, and attempted a joke.  
“Eat it. You aren’t getting rid of me that easily!” It was a pretty feeble joke, Simon was willing to admit.  
“How unfortunate,” sneered Baz, his voice ridiculously posh. But he grinned softly in a way that made Simon feel as if he were happy that Simon was staying. Simon couldn’t help but smile widely in return. That was the thing about people who didn’t smile all that often, Simon thought as he sat down in a cosy armchair near the window. When they did, you simply couldn’t help but smile back. Or maybe, it was just Baz. Beautiful people had a way of making you do things, and Baz was more than beautiful; He radiated confidence, intelligence, disdain and cunning, yet Simon could tell that underneath, he was probably a big softy. He wondered if he would ever get the privilege of seeing Baz being soft. He opened the book and was quickly swept away in the dramatic storyline and characters. He lost track of time and space, in another world. He had originally read the book simply because Baz had recommended it, but now he couldn’t put it down because it was a genuinely amazing book. He wondered if Baz had any more to recommend. Simon had forgotten all about his drink until it was neatly placed in front of him. Simon was ripped from his concentration and it took him a second to remember where he was.  
“You startled me!” He said upon seeing Baz. A welcome interruption.  
Baz’s ears seemed to be blushing very slightly, but his face and voice were smooth.  
“You’re easy to sneak up on, especially when you’re reading.” Simon supposed he was; Penny was always scaring him when he was immersed in a book.   
“I snuck up on you yesterday! I distinctly remember seeing you jump.” Simon teased, and Baz raised a perfect eyebrow at him. Simon bet he practised.  
“I definitely did not jump. I heard you coming from a mile away, you tread like a bear.” Baz scoffed. And then, because he wanted to, and because he hoped that it would make Baz laugh, Simon (tried) to raise an eyebrow, imitating Baz’s effortless look of disdain and amusement. Baz looked startled for a second, then his face split into a huge grin that turned into a bubbling laugh. Baz’s laugh was clear and melodic, like a spring, and was the most beautiful sound Simon had ever heard. He looked shocked at his loss of smooth control, but his mouth was working furiously to keep from grinning.   
“Sorry.” Baz apologised. “It’s just, I haven’t laughed since… I haven’t really laughed in a while.” Simon wanted to ask, but he didn’t think that Baz was ready to have a heart to heart with him, even if they were soul mates. Instead, Simon joked, his fall back plan in any kind of situation.  
“That is extremely bad for your health, sir. Containing your laughter makes it all get built up inside you, and there are only two ways it can escape. Out of the mouth, or out of the…” Simon waggled his eyebrows at him, hoping Baz wouldn’t think he was a creep.   
“As your doctor, I must insist that you laugh more often. I prescribe myself.” Simon hoped he hadn’t gone to far. His expertise in the flirting departing were pretty pathetic. But this only seemed to set Baz off again, who sat down and put his head in between his legs to try and muffle his laughter. Simon wished he wouldn’t. People with laughs like that should laugh as loudly and as often as possible. Or maybe it was just because it was Baz. Simon despaired at how quickly he had become hopelessly infatuated with this man who probably didn’t even like him that much.  
As Baz regained control of himself, Simon reached for his drink and, as he was about to take a sip, he noticed that the napkin seemed to have something written on it. He placed his drink on the table and examined it closer. In smooth, elegant writing, a string of numbers was drawn on in black pen. No, it couldn’t be…  
“Is this what I think it is?” He blurted out, turning to Baz. He desperately hoped it was. He was holding his breath, waiting for Baz’s answer that could make or break him. (That was a tad dramatic; It wouldn’t be the end of the world if it wasn’t his number [Yes it was] [shut up])

Baz looked slightly unsure, almost as if he had never been in this kind of situation before.   
“I should hope so. If that isn’t a napkin, I don’t know what is.” He said, his face flat and blank. Simon groaned. He wished Baz would stop trying to cover up his emotions. It would make Simons life easier if he knew what Baz was thinking.  
“No, you dumb ass, this!” He rolled his eyes in exasperation. Of course his soul mate was an idiotic numpty. Baz didn’t say anything, just stared at the table and refused to meet his eyes. Simon swallowed. “Is it… Your number?” Baz slowly shut his eyes and let out a long breath. “You said that you wanted to text me when you’re done.” Simon felt his heart skip a beat and his breath catch in his throat. It was his number, Baz had given him his number, Simon had Baz’s number! He felt as if he had just won the lottery.   
“So it is your number then! “He said with a grin. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist my charm for long.” Baz gave his eyes a might roll at Simon, but his face seemed to have loosened slightly, and he had the smallest hint of a smile playing on his lips.  
“Charm? What charm. I believe I am the most charming one out of the two of us.” He said, raising a brow and giving Simon a smouldering half-grin. Simon nearly swooned.   
“I doubt that. Maybe… we should hang out more to test that theory?” Simon was nervous. Whatever they had was very fragile, and Simon could sense that one wrong blunder could send Baz running. Unfortunately, Simon was not known for his gracefulness or eloquence.   
He couldn’t meet Baz’s eyes, afraid of seeing rejection or disgust in them.   
“I would like that.” Baz said, and though his voice was quiet his words sounded to Simon like a symphony of the most beautiful instruments of the world. He stared hard at Baz, trying to discern what he was feeling inside. Unfortunately, Baz seemed to be a master at hiding his emotions. Simon smiled at him anyway; This was enough for now.   
“What time do you get off?” He tried very hard to sound casual. Baz smiled and opened his mouth to reply, when a voice interrupted from behind him.   
“Right now.” Simon jerked his head up. He recognised that voice. True, he hadn’t heard it for a couple years now, but he would recognise it anywhere.   
“Agatha?” He exclaimed as she stepped around Baz and smiled at him. Simon felt flustered and slightly embarrassed, what with their history and all, but they were still friends. She was still as beautiful as ever, but it was different now. He still appreciated her beauty, but it didn’t make him feel as if he had been kicked in the gut whenever she smiled or laughed, as it did with Baz.   
“I thought you were in Chicago!” He said. She shook her head, grinning.  
“I stayed there about a year, but I realised that it wasn’t really for me. So I came back and took over mum’s restaurant. I thought you were going to Oxford with Penny?” Simon couldn’t help laughing with delight. He had missed her after all these years.  
“We changed our minds. We both got accepted into the uni here and decided to attend here instead.” She smiled and pulled him into a firm hug. She seemed different from last time he had seen her; She used to be reserved and shy, and only very rarely would she allow herself to loosen up. Now she seemed happy and relaxed, and he wondered what had happened. Whatever it was, he was glad.   
“So, you and Baz, huh? I wasn’t expecting that!” Simon blushed, embarrassed by her forwardness and hoping that Baz didn’t care. Oh god, what if he did care? Simon covered up his panic by sipping his drink in what he hoped was a dignified fashion. Agatha laughed and turned to Baz. “It’s super quiet in here, we have enough people to handle it. You guys go do something nice.” She said, and leaned in close to Baz, speaking to quietly for Simon to hear. He was nervous about what she might be saying, hoping it wasn’t anything bad. She turned to Simon with a warm smile and hugged him, talking about how they had to keep in contact this time and how she wanted to meet up with Penny. He nodded and smiled, slightly overwhelmed with seeing her after all this time, on top of the fact that he and Baz were going to go out together. That was the problem though; What would they do? As much as he hated to admit it, Simon didn’t know Baz all that well. What kind of thing would Baz enjoy? Suddenly he had an idea.  
“Do you wanna go to the cinema? We could watch a movie and get popcorn and stuff.” Movies were a standard date… Kind of thing. (Was this a date? Simon wanted it to be but what if that just made Baz freak out or something?) Besides, everyone liked movies. Hopefully. Did Baz like movies?  
Baz smiled at Simon, and he felt his heart flutter. He was so, so beautiful. He reminded Simon of statues he had seen carved from marble. Sharp, defined lines and smooth skin. Baz belonged on a canvas, or a bust of a Greek god. It was hardly fair that any mortal could look like Baz.   
“That sounds perfect. I’ll just go and grab my jacket.”   
Simon felt as if everything was going right. 

A short while later, courtesy of Baz’s car, they arrived at the cinema. Simon felt as if he were glowing with happiness and excitement. He felt pleasantly nervous, afraid that he would somehow stuff up or embarrass himself. As they stood in the crowded foyer of the cinema, Simon started to shiver. His clothes were still pretty wet from his lack of umbrella before he arrived at the coffee shop, and icy cold rain was trickling down his spine. Baz glanced over at him as his teeth started chattering loudly, a peculiar expression on his face.   
“Here.” He said, shrugging off his jacket and draping it around Simons shoulders. Simon felt a tingle down his spine that didn’t have anything to do with the rain. The jacket was worn black leather, and smelt pleasantly of coffee and whatever soap Baz must use.   
“Th-thanks.” He said, pulling it on and trying to breathe in the scent without Baz noticing. It was heavenly. He wondered if he could get away with keeping it somehow, but he doubted it. Leather jackets were pretty expensive.   
“So, what would you like to see?” Baz asked, and Simon suddenly remembered that they were there to watch a movie, not to watch Baz.   
“Oh, erm…” He glanced up at the movie timetable, quickly scanning the titles and not really recognising any.   
“I don’t really mind. You pick.” It’s not like he would actually be able to pay attention to the plot with Baz sitting next to him.  
“Well, Suicide Squad has been quite popular. Do you want to see that?” Simon grinned. Super hero movies didn’t require a whole lot of attention to the plot, which seemed pretty perfect to him.   
“Sure!” They quickly paid for their tickets, and purchased popcorn and drinks. Simon also bought a packet of peanut m&m’s, trying not to cringe at the ridiculous prices. As they sat down, he ripped open the m&m’s and poured them into his bucket of popcorn, shaking it to mix them through.   
“What on Earth are you doing?” Exclaimed Baz, looking revolted. Simon smiled.  
“Haven’t you ever tried this before?” Baz shook his head, and Simon smiled even wider.   
“You have not lived.” He shoved the bucket towards Baz, who shook his head.   
“I refuse. That is absolutely foul!” Simon gave Baz a wicked look.  
“If you don’t, I’ll sit in your lap for the rest of the film!” He threatened, before he could think about what he was saying. It looked as though Baz blushed, but the lights suddenly faded and the ads started, so he couldn’t tell. Wordlessly, Baz rolled his eyes mightily and took a small handful of popcorn. He swallowed it, and looked at Simon with wide eyes.   
“Shit. That’s actually really good.” Simon laughed.  
“Told you so.”   
The film started, and Baz leaned back slightly in his chair. His hair spilled in inky waves to his collar, and the light from the screen illuminated his face. His skin glowed dark grey, and he looked almost supernatural. Simon felt suddenly daring, and leaned forward to whisper in his ear.   
“You know, this movie would be way better if we could watch it in colour.” Baz stiffened momentarily, but turned and whispered back.   
“That’s a little forward for a first date, isn’t it?” Simons heart fluttered.  
“Oh, so this is a date now, is it?” He asked, grinning. He hoped so. Baz froze, and his cheeks seemed to darken to a deeper shade of grey, but he miraculously allowed Simon to take his hand. The screen bled into full-blown colour, more bright and eye-catching than in real life. More amazing still was the sensation of Baz’s smooth hand in his, and he never wanted this moment to end.

Simon could not have told you what had happened in that movie for the life of him. The sensation of Baz’s skin against his, and seeing him laugh under his breath, or roll his eyes at some of the cheesier lines distracted Simon from the film. Several times, Baz would glance sideways at him and catch Simon staring at him. In these moments Simon would awkwardly smile and blush and whip around to watch the screen, or pretend he was just reaching for his drink. He would resume staring at Baz once he felt the burn of his gaze lift. They didn’t stop holding hands once, even when the film ended and they strolled from the cinema. The rain had ceased whilst they had been in the cinema, a weak watery sun was just starting to shine through the roof of thick clouds.   
They started towards the park in a comfortable silence. Inwardly, Simon could have done cartwheels with joy, revelling in the fact that they were still holding hands and that Baz seemed to want to spend more time with him.   
“I enjoyed that. I haven’t seen a whole lot of action movies. Who was your favourite character?” Baz asked as they walked. Simon swallowed, and tried not to meet Baz’s eye. What were the characters’ names again? There was the crazy girl with the hammer… Or was it a baseball bat? And the fire dude and the one that shot guns or something?   
“Oh, I don’t know. I liked them all, I guess. Who was yours?” He covered up quickly, straining to remember what little of the movie he watched. Baz shrugged thoughtfully.  
“I guess I liked Diablo. He was cool.” Diablo… The fire dude? Or maybe the crocodile? Shit, he was screwed.  
“Oh yeah, he was… um… awesome.” Baz smiled at him as if he knew that Simon was bluffing. Simon hastily changed the subject to school, and they fell into comfortable conversation.   
They soon arrived at the park, only to see that it had become so overrun with puddles that it resembled a swamp. Simon whooped loudly and lurched forward, dragging Baz behind him by the hand.  
“What are you doing?” Baz asked, skirting around a puddle and looking at Simon as if he had gone crazy. In answer, Simon, still gripping Baz’s hand, launched himself in the air and planted his feet into the nearest puddle. A magnificent arc of muddy water rose high around him, splattered himself and Baz.   
“I am so getting you back for that!” Sputtered Baz though a mouth full of water. Simon laughed in delight as Baz leapt gracefully into the puddle alongside him, spraying water at them both up to their chins. Simon felt a thrill run up and down his spine as Baz gripped his shoulder to steady himself. Baz straightened, laughing in delight. Simon chimed in heartily when he saw that mud had somehow managed to find it’s way onto Baz cheek. He reached forward and gently wiped it from Baz’s skin, allowing his hand to rest there. A silence stretched between them, tense and unsure. Simon didn’t want to do anything to make Baz uncomfortable or scared. He was still marvelling over the fact that Baz was here with him, had willingly gone out with him and held his hand. A kiss would be too much too wish for after all that had happened. Simon smiled apologetically, and went to move his hand away.   
And then suddenly, miraculously, Baz’s lips were on his. They rested there a fleeting second, feeling like ice but burning like fire, before he broke away. Simon’s mouth was slightly open, his mouth wide in shock. Baz looked at him uncertainly from under his eyelashes.   
“Um… Sorry.” He said, and his voice sounded more vulnerable than Simon had ever heard it. He didn’t even bother replying, instead wrapping his hand around Baz’s neck, his hands in his hair, and shoved his face into his.   
Simon didn’t even notice the sun going down, to immersed in Baz, in his lips and hair and presence. Baz, seemingly reluctantly, pulled away, but left his arms around Simons waist. They had, at some point, retreated to a park bench, and were sitting side by side, kissing and talking. Though they were in public, it felt as if they were in a whole new planet. The rain and vast puddles had discouraged people form venturing past their front door.   
“I’m sorry but I have to go… I’m meeting my aunt…” Baz was biting his lip softly, looking like he regretted making plans with his aunt. Simon smiled widely at him.   
“That’s all good. I have your number now, so I’ll bother you heaps later!” Baz rolled his eyes, but ruined the gesture by smiling softly.   
“I’ll look forward to it.” He gave Simon one last lingering kiss, and left. Simon felt a pang of loss when their contact was broken, but something seemed… different.   
The world was not completely black and white and grey again. True, it was not as bright or breathtakingly beautiful as it was when Baz was around, but there was still an element of tone and colour all around him.   
Smiling to himself, he got up and left, hands in pockets, and walked home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! I lost all motivation with this, I ran out of ideas and didn't quite know how to start. I've f i n a l l y finished it. Hope you enjoy! Feed back is more than welcome. x


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